


Domestic Relations

by Camfield



Series: Domestic Squabbles [4]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camfield/pseuds/Camfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Universe: G1 AU ish</p><p>Characters: Decepticons.  Author chooses not to warn.</p><p>Rating: NC17</p><p>Warnings: Sticky.  Author chooses not to warn. </p><p>A/N:  Set in the same universe as Domestic Squabble.  Post Squabble. </p><p> </p><p>For a certain someone (you know who you are).  I'm sorry it is so late!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic Relations

Starscream wasn’t quite fully online when a hand smoothed over his interface panels. A slow, stroke that had his claws stretching and wingtips twitching as he let out a sigh. 

A tap; and he opened willingly. Morning sex, oh hell, any sex, was a perfect way to start what was sure to be a frustrating and long day and it did at least make the first bit easier on the processor. An overload or twelve did wonders for one’s mood.

Optics still offline, he wiggled his hips in invitation, humming as first one, than two claws breached the rim of his valve. They seemed hesitant, something that was unusual because, really, Megatron? Hesitant? Still, it had been a long time since he’d even bothered to stretch Starscream, so perhaps it was more of a ‘rediscovering’ thing. 

Also, the sudden wet, slickness of a glossa made him not care.

He moaned, hips lifting as the glossa thrust past metalflesh folds and slid between fingers, spreading lubricant over the tiny sensor nodes that littered the walls of his valve. The second hand came up and Starscream felt the soft metal platelets spread, the index and middle digits of both hands hooking the rim edges and stretching…

Oh… that glossa. It trailed around the rim, over fingers and dripping lubricant, and would delve back inside, sometimes so hard that denta pressed against him, sometimes so softly the sensations were ghostlike, just barely touching. It would dip in, then back out as if sampling the flavor, then back in again to lave over the inner walls. Those digits pulling outward ever so slightly every time glossa would rasp upward, over the cluster of sensor nodes that resided just above the top rim. 

His valve clenched rhythmically, hips lifting without conscious thought as Starscream fought to both press closer to the wonderful sensations and to hold back and enjoy something that happened far less often than he’d like. His claws curled into the berth padding, his helm thrashing back and forth as he fought the rising fire in the pit of his tank. It burned, curling and twisting, making the tension cables tighten as far as they could go in both abdomen and thighs. Plating alternately rattling and clamped tight as he resisted falling over the edge.

Suddenly the hands pulled away and two fingers were pressed deep inside, glossa lapping furiously at the sensor cluster until Starscream bowed off the berth, hips rising out of reach of that wonderful mouth, and valve shooting lubricant in a short, thick stream. 

He’d barely finished, aftershocks still shuddering through him, when he was pulled down and onto a spike.

That was DEFINITELY not Megatron’s.

Starscream’s optics flew online as he scrambled backward, ignoring the whine from his… attacker?

“Mommy! I was just getting started!”

Oh no. Oh no no no no no. He had not just gotten some of the best oral in vorns from his own creation.

Slag it, he HAD. And it had been good…

And Ramjet was back in again. Starscream ignored the bolt of pleasure that zinged through his circuits, pushing himself backward again and clattering against the wall.

“Ramjet! What the frag?!”

Ramjet followed him on hands and knees, systems whining in protest of a charge too high and not dispersed.

“Uncle ‘Warp said that you were in need of a real good ‘load. He said that he and TC woulda done ya, but that ever since you and Daddy did it at the airport you aint let no one ‘stick it in ya’ but ‘ole bucket head’. Who is that anyway?”

“Nevermind. Why in all of Cybertron would you listen to anything that Skywarp says! I’ve told you he’s an idiot; do I have to spell everything out for you?”

“But… he taught me what to do! He said that you wouldn’t be able to resist once you’d had ‘Warp’s Patented flick and flex glossa technique’ to ‘melt you up’.”

Clawtips were shredding berth padding, lubricant still pooling under him from his fluttering valve, a clear message of “Why the FUCK did you stop what you were doing?!” coming through loud and clear over his processor’s more rational thinking. 

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to rip his wings from his body and put them through a shredder.”

Ramjet shuddered, his hand wrapping around his spike.

“No! I’m going to sic Megatron on him, THAN I’m going to mutilate his already broken body! Throw it in the water and watch as he sinks to the ocean floor, then watch him ROT through a window!”

The Conehead moaned, hips working as he thrust into the circle of his own hand. Watching Starscream with overbright optics as he spit fury and vitriol at Skywarp, hands and padding flying through the air, legs still spread indecently wide in front of him.

“You hear that Skywarp! You depraved, miserable excuse for a Seeker! I’m going to pull out your T-cog and disable your teleport generator! You’ll be stuck as a wingless wonder at the bottom of the ocean!”

A choked sound and Starscream finally looked at his youngest creation to see him stroke his spike one last time, transfluid jetting out to hit him full in the pelvic plating. He gaped, mouth dropped open as the viscous fluid dripped down to mingle with his own lighter lubricant, leaving sticky trails covering his abdominal plating.

Ramjet’s optics were distant, oral lubricant dripping from his mouth as he stroked his now limp spike and shuddered with each pass. Starscream just stared, incredulousness rolling off of him in waves as thick as the transfluid dripping past his valve.

“See you got your overload Screamer! Isn’t Rammy here deviiiiine at eating valve? I have to admit, he’s better than I am! Even got TC to ‘load without touching his spike, and you KNOW how he feels about ‘valve play’.”

Skywarp was leaning against the wall beside the berth, a smug grin on his face. 

“Doesn’t look like you let him get his though, poor baby. Here, let Uncle ‘Warp make it all better.”

With a strangely cutesy cooing noise, Skywarp hauled Ramjet half off the berth, leaving his upper half cushioned in the padding as he rubbed hands over the white aft. An audible click and Skywarp wasted no time, seating himself in his nephew and pressing them tightly together.

Starscream shuttered his optics, helm thunking back against the wall. 

Needy whimpers and whines told him Skywarp was thoroughly debauching his youngest and his valve clenched in remembrance of his brother’s considerable berth skills. His spike, long tabbed at Megatron’s behest, throbbed as he onlined one optic to watch the slow glide of a spike in and out of his creation.

Well, Megatron had said no one else’s spike, right? Surely enticing his son to make use of those processor shuddering skills of his was simply taking advantage of what was available, something any good Decepticon worth their Energon would do in a sparkbeat.

And Starscream was a good Decepticon. The very best, in fact.

Shifting over on the berth, he imperiously ignored Skywarp’s slag eating grin. He was doing this because it was clearly the Decepticon thing to do. To take advantage. No. Other. Reason.

Skywarp slowed his movements as Starscream situated himself in front of Ramjet, delivering long, hard thrusts that rocked the berth on its foundations. Blue hands grabbed at the white helm and pressed it against his valve, the word “lick” hissed between gritted denta. Ramjet’s hands came up and his glossa pressed forward and Starscream fought back a groan.

Taboo be dammed. Starscream made an internal note that Ramjet was going to be required to report to him first thing every cycle.


End file.
